Editor's Note: (Rosa Prince is editor of The House magazine. She is former assistant political editor of the Daily Telegraph and author of the books "Theresa May: The Enigmatic Prime Minister" "and "Comrade Corbyn: A Very Unlikely Coup." The views expressed in this commentary are her own. View more opinion on CNN.)
London(CNN) "The Prime Minister is not under a desk."
It said much about the state of Liz Truss's troubled premiership that this statement by fellow Conservative minister Penny Mordaunt at the start of the week was made, ostensibly at least, as a show of support.
Three days later, on Thursday, Truss announced her resignation.
Hard to believe it is less than six weeks since Truss descended a helicopter to "kiss hands" with Queen Elizabeth II (two days before the latter's death in Balmoral Castle, Scotland), becoming the United Kingdom's 56th prime minister.
As she surveys the shattered wreck of her premiership, Truss must be wondering where it all went wrong -- and quite how it collapsed around her ears so quickly.
To recap: as the country observed 10 days official mourning for the late Queen, Truss and her close ally and Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng drew up plans for a financial package dubbed the "mini-Budget" but with consequences which would feel decidedly maxi.
Truss and Kwarteng's prescription for turbo-powering the economy in a quest for growth through unfunded tax cuts unnerved the markets, triggering a run on the pound and forcing the Bank of England to step in to prevent pension funds collapsing.
Last week, Truss hoicked Kwarteng back from Washington DC, where he was attending a gathering of the IMF, to fire him for, as critics quipped, following her policies to the letter. In his stead, she installed as Chancellor the experienced Jeremy Hunt, a candidate from the opposite moderate wing of the party, but who trailed in eighth place behind her in the contest to replace Boris Johnson last summer.
On Monday, Hunt took steps to steady the markets by jettisoning the entire mini-Budget, including a planned 1p cut in income tax, a corporation tax rise and VAT-free shopping for tourists (Truss and Kwarteng had already been forced to ditch plans to scrap the top 45p tax rate).
That left Truss's low-tax economic vision in tatters, a boil lanced not only for the short term but, to the fury of those who had been in her camp, leaving sufficient scar tissue to warn politicians off repeating the experiment for a generation.
Hunt's statements did the trick in terms of settling the markets, but had the opposite effect on Truss's authority. When she was late to Parliament on Monday to answer a question from opposition leader Keir Starmer, rumors swept Westminster that she was on her way to Buckingham Palace to proffer her resignation to the King.
Her absence meant Mordaunt -- who by the way had come third in the leadership contest -- was tasked with answering in her place.
Mordaunt was gifted the opportunity to "helpfully" answer a Labour MP's question about Truss's whereabouts by repeating the query -- about whether the prime minister was "cowering under her desk" -- serving up a dynamite clip for broadcasters and further undermining the prime minister's authority.
Having been in government for 12 years, the most electorally successful party in British political history is indeed battle scarred, riven into multitudes of factions and overhung with an air of bitterness.
After Thursday's resignation announcement, Truss is set to become the shortest serving prime minister in British history after the 19th century George Canning (in 1827, after barely five months in office, he died suddenly from pneumonia).
The man who came second to Truss, former chancellor Rishi Sunak, has been very quiet in recent days; suspiciously quiet. Those close to him are briefing that, after a bruising defeat to Truss, he has no appetite to wield the knife himself, but suggest he could be persuaded to step up if the call was nearly unanimous.
Boris Johnson had a favorite expression to hint when he was on maneuvers -- an old chestnut he returned to even in his departure speech.
"If, like Cincinnatus, I were to be called from my plow, then obviously it would be wrong of me not to help out," he said in 2009, a decade before winding up in Number 10.
The reference was to Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, who Livy relates gave up being consul to return to his farm in the hills above Rome, only to return to lead again when the city was besieged.
Truss will not be the only one wondering this week how long Sunak will remain at his plow.